Handcuffs and Butter
by Tialys
Summary: Jolly Cotton manages to lock himself in handcuffs and Tom, Sam and Rosie must figure out how to get him out before they miss lunch.


"Handcuffs and Butter" by Tialys

Jolly Cotton manages to lock himself in handcuffs and Tom, Sam and Rosie must figure out how to get him out before they miss lunch.

The year is 1397. Sam and Tom are 17 and Rosie and Jolly are 13. Rosie and Jolly might not have been twins, but I could not find anything saying that they weren't, so in my story they are.

* * *

"Tom, it's not funny anymore! Get them off!"

Jolly Cotton jerked his hands apart as far as they would stretch before resuming the panicked shaking of his captured limbs. While his brother Tom knelt before him in vain attempts to calm the lad, Sam Gamgee, who was visiting with his brothers to help the Cottons with a bit of farm work, carefully snatched the flailing hands out of the air and began to examine the chains encasing them. Around each tiny wrist was locked a thin circlet of steel, connected to each other by a short chain of metal links. Tom Cotton had found the rusty handcuffs in the upper lofts of their barn and had been quick to show the discovery to his siblings. There had been a key once -- proven by the thin openings slit in the side of each circle of metal -- but it was lost now, perhaps in the maze of scrap metals and old farming tools that littered the barn loft.

Curious of the mystery use of the handcuffs, Jolly had sneaked the chains out of his brother's room and carried them off to a private spot behind the icehouse. The locks had clicked around his wrists easily, surprising the poor hobbit at how quickly they swung shut of their own accord. A brief scuffle with the iron loops had been enough to convince him they were not opening and Jolly's panicked screams for help had carried across the Cotton's wide yard and into the house where Tom and Sam had been washing up for lunch.

Tugging gently at the steel circles with one hand while keeping Jolly's little arms still with the other, Sam inspected the handcuffs' locks with minimal hope. "Tom," he called over Jolly's sobs, "is there a key?"

Wincing slightly, Tom checked that his little brother was not looking and bitterly shook his head _'no'_.

"Jolly!"

Both Tom and Sam jumped at the shout and looked up to Jolly's twin sister, Rosie, flying across the yard with her skirts held up in her small hands and her eyes wide from the sound of Jolly's screams. Rushing hard toward the three boys she almost forgot to stop, skidding on the grass and catching hold of Sam's shoulder to keep herself upright. As she stumbled to a halt beside her brother he quickly muffled his cries and stifled his tears down to only gasping breaths; fooling no one but Rosie, who thought him fearless. The screams having now subsided, along with Jolly's frantic struggling, Tom knelt next to Sam and turned his brother's right hand over to study the handcuffs' clasp.

"Wh -- What happened?" Rosie breathed, her eyes still wide as she peered over Sam's shoulder at the links of metal around her brother's wrists.

Tom looked up from the hand to his brother's face in question and Jolly hung his head, shielding himself from the accusing gaze with his blond curls. "I didn't mean to," he whispered.

"Of course you didn't." Tom chuckled, "That would have been stupid."

Jolly sniffed, handcuffs clinking as he raised his arm to wipe his face on his jacket sleeve. "How do I get out?" He asked, voice climbing in pitch.

"Um..." Tom turned to Sam expectantly, sighing as his friend could only chew his lip and shrug, at the same loss as Tom for a course of action. "Well, Jolly," He stammered on, "Let's get you inside so we can look at the lock better and --"

"No!" Jolly gasped, jerking his chained wrists out of the two boys' grasps. "Dad'll kill me!"

"He's got a point, Tom." Sam whispered.

Tom shook his head. "Come on, Jolly, Dad won't kill you."

"Tom, they're right." Rosie insisted, moving to stand beside her twin brother for support. "Dad won't be happy about it and it's bad enough now without Dad punishing us all."

"Us all?" Tom challenged. "Rose, I didn't --"

"_You_ found the handcuffs." Rosie returned, bristling. "And you didn't tell Dad about them either. You left them lying around and now Jolly's all chained up! What if he _dies_?!"

Jolly blanched at this, turning wide round eyes to Sam, the oldest one present that seemed to be one his side, in a silent plea for -- something. Rosie, finding no support from her eldest brother and assuming Sam would simply side with his friend, groaned in frustration and looped an arm through Jolly's bound ones, glaring at the metal chains around his wrists. As no solution came to mind, she turned her burning eyes to first Tom, then Sam, tossed her curly hair in annoyance and half-shouted to the boys, "Well? _Do_ something!"

Jerking out of what had at least appeared to be deep thought, Tom took Jolly's wrist in his hand again, rotating it every few seconds and whispering under his breath. Lifting the metal ring off its resting place on his brother's arm, he measured the gap between iron and skin with his fingers, then pushed the ring as far down the wrist as it could go, smiling as it finally caught at Jolly's thumb.

"Rosie," He whispered, eyes glued in triumph on Jolly's hand. "Go get a handful of butter from in the icehouse. Quick."

Reluctantly sliding her arm out of the loop of her brother's, Rosie lifted her skirt up again and dashed around the icehouse to it's large wooden trapdoor, tugging resolutely at its handle. But Rosie Cotton was incredibly slight in build, especially for a lass her age, and the weight of the thick door was beyond her ability to lift or even move.

Sobbing in frustration, Rosie stomped on the door angrily before shouting back to her brother. "I can't! It's too heavy!"

Jolly whimpered and backed up to sit against the side of the icehouse, his hand retreating again from Tom's hold. Sam grimaced and rested his hand in brief and useless comfort on Jolly's knee before rising and slipping quickly around the icehouse to the trapdoor. Gently moving Rosie away from the door -- which she was still pounding with her foot -- Sam set his grip around the iron handle and painstakingly pried the door open inch by inch, gasping in relief as it at last fell open enough to crawl through. Rosie jumped to grab the long metal beam resting against the side of the icehouse and wedged the shaft diagonally to hold the heavy door open, relieving Sam's aching arms of the task.

"Careful," Sam whispered as Rosie knelt on the ground then slipped under the trapdoor, vanishing into the dark, cold chasm below. Wary of the door shutting of its own accord, Sam set his arm firmly to the creaking wooden beams and braced his foot against the stones bordering the entrance, holding the position until Rosie reappeared with a paper-wrapped cube clutched in her hands. Allowing the trapdoor to slam shut, they hurried back around the icehouse where Rosie handed the parcel over to her older brother before settling on the ground beside Jolly, who, again, had attempted to calm himself at her arrival.

Grinning, Tom arranged the wrapped slab on the grass before him and began to carefully peel back the paper wrapping, revealing a thick, sticky slab of golden butter. Peeling off a good sized glob of the melting butter, Tom reached for his brother's chained wrists, but Jolly shouted incoherently and moved his hands out of Tom's reach.

"Jolly," Tom groaned, holding the dripping gob of butter out in the distorted form of a plea, "Please? Look, I'm just going to cover your hands in this and then we can get those handcuffs off you."

Sam opened his mouth to add his own encouragements but Rosie was already elbowing Jolly hard in the ribs and whispering loudly to him, "Come _on_, Jolly! Don't be such a baby!"

Ribs bruised and bravery insulted -- both by his little sister -- Jolly scowled fiercely at the metal cuffs and thrust them back towards his brother.

Ten minutes and a pound of butter later, all four children could be found resting in a wearied yet companionable silence, sitting in a row alone the side of the icehouse. Jolly's hands and a good portion of his arms were covered in a thin, slippery layer of butter, equally slick handcuffs now clenched in his dripping grasp. Rosie still sat curled beside him, her arm once again strung through his and her head nodding on his shoulder. Sam sat on the other side of Jolly, half-heartedly trying to wipe the butter from Jolly's hands with his handkerchief. Beside Sam, Tom slid down to lay flat on the ground, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sun along with his oncoming headache.

"Jolly." He murmured from beneath his sleeve, and Jolly winced and turned to his brother in apology.

"Yeah?" The response was hardly a whisper and Sam threw Jolly a sympathetic glance from under his eyelashes before returning to his doze.

"Never," Tom groaned, "_Ever_ mess with anything that _locks_ ever again."

Rosie giggled into her twin's shoulder, finally acknowledging the humor of the situation now that it was fixed, and Jolly growled and slid his arm out of hers. The other three watched in silence as Jolly stormed back to the house -- assumedly to wash the generously applied butter from his arms -- and Rosie leaned over sideways, laying down in the spot Jolly had vacated.

"We should head back up, too," Tom yawned, "They've probably started lunch without us."

Muttering sleepily, Rosie pushed herself up, brushed the clinging grass from her skirt and extended a hand to pull Tom to his feet -- Sam still sat dozing against the icehouse wall. Setting Tom off to the house with a directional prod, Rosie knelt in front of Sam, gently shaking his shoulder, causing his head to fall to his shoulder.

"Sam," She whispered, carefully brushing a speck of butter from his cheek with her finger, "Wake up. Lunch."

Cracking blurry eyes open, Sam blinked in surprise at Rosie's face a few inches from him. Battling for his voice, he carefully formed the question, "What?"

Rosie chuckled and latched both hands around his, trying vainly to pull him up. "Lunch-time, silly," she repeated, "We've been out here so long with Jolly everyone's probably eaten already."

With only a bit more prodding from Rosie, Sam clamored off the ground and they started back up the small incline to the house, Rosie still having not released Sam's hand. Before Sam could begin to feel completely uncomfortable about this, Rosie wrapped her arm through his as she had done to Jolly, rested her head briefly on his shoulder and whispered, "Thank you, Sam."

She then snatched his trembling hand up in hers and dragged him towards the house, thankfully missing the scarlet tint that had rebelliously crept into his cheeks.

* * *

May 21, 2004


End file.
